


Earth is Really Fucking Stupid

by orphan_account



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Canon Compliant, Recreational Drug Use, and i was like ''fuck yes'', but it didnt fit in with the story so i took it out, connor and alana have a weird friendship, evan and alana have a weird friendship, i think this is really ooc and gross but i want more stuff on my profile, i was like ''no its a psych analysis of a character i like'', im drafting some ideas in my head at school and, its really NOT but that got his creepy ass to leave me alone so, jared and alana have no friendship because fuck you, my brain was like ''oh zo and lana should fight'', my friend saw me writing this and asked if it was porn, sorry :/ - Freeform, they do interact tho, zoe and alana have a weird friendship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-08
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2018-12-23 05:11:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11982849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: it's about alana, that's it. read and find out more.(just read it, my summaries are shit.)





	1. .F L O W E R S.

**Author's Note:**

> i had to post this before doing my homework so that i couldn't chicken out and not post it, so read it before i decide to delete it

Alana has, for as long as she could remember, always talked a lot. Like, a lot. It’s not unusual for kids to talk and ramble a lot because they’re _kids_ , they don’t have filters, but as she got older, it never stopped. She was, as her grandmother so fondly called her, “a little motormouth.” It was… Embarrassing, to say the least. She didn’t like being different in that way, she wanted to stand out because of how meticulous and smart she was, not because she could never figure out how to cut herself off. It was hard for her to make friends because she would isolate herself in fear of saying the wrong thing. So she turned to plants.

Her grandmother liked plants, so Alana knew enough about them to try and start her own garden. Plants were just easy. They didn’t talk to you and you didn’t have to talk to them. Well, she’d actually read on the internet that talking to her plants was good for them, but she wouldn’t do that. She was tired of talking. She was tired of her own voice. And the plants would never ask her why she was so quiet, like her classmates did, they would never tell her to speak out in class again, like her parents and teachers would, they never asked her to do anything but water them and love them. And she did.

Until they died.

She doesn’t know how or why it happened, but it did. And it wasn’t sudden either, it was a gradual thing, colors fading, leaves falling, petals shriveling. It was painful. She’d worked so hard to keep them alive, but it’s like they were tired of holding on and just gave up. Just let go.

(In that same week, her grandmother was admitted to the hospital for a heart attack. Alana missed three days of school, sick with stress.)

After plants, she didn’t really know what to turn to. Her grandmother was still in the hospital and she hadn’t made any friends. She was still alone, eating lunch in classrooms and the library. But then she met Connor. Well, she didn’t, like, _meet_ Connor, they were more paired up for a project, but they still met and they still clicked. Kind of. Connor didn’t have friends and he liked it like that. “If you don’t care, then there’s no way to get hurt in the end,” he’d told her when she asked why he didn’t have any friends, because he seems like the type who would have a ton of buddies. Sure, he’s kind of hostile and intimidating, but he’s also really funny. The things he calls Huck Finn…

Alana on the other hand, didn’t have friends because she was weird. Eccentric. Peculiar. She just didn’t click with the other kids, but she did talk to a few of them. They were more like acquaintances than friends, though. But meeting Connor had opened doors for her, but maybe closed ones for him, but at the time, she hadn’t noticed. Or maybe she hadn’t cared.

The first door that had opened was his younger sister speaking to her. She was a year younger than them, but still taller than Alana at the time. She was almost identical to Connor, but she smiled and grinned instead of sneered and smirked. She was nicer. _Friendlier_. The things she’d asked her about, however, were not nice or friendly.

“I- What?” Alana had stuttered, shocked at the question. Alana’s been asked weird things before, she uses the internet. She is in middle school, but it’s never been this level of weird. Zoe laughed, kind of uncomfortably, and repeated her question. “Connor’s not hurting you, is he?”

Alana was in complete shock because, yeah, okay, Connor’s kind of hostil and kind of has a reputation that paints him in a negative light, but he would never just hurt somebody because. Right?

“No!” Alana answers a little too loudly, a little too quickly, a lot too desperate. Zoe blinks, eyes wide, taken aback and Alana blushes, clearing her throat. “No,” she starts, slower, quieter, hoping to keep her motor mouth under control. “Connor’s never hurt me, and I don’t think he intends to. We’re just project partners.” She feels her gut twist at the last part, ‘cause it _hurts_ , but it’s true. He doesn’t like having friends and Alana doesn’t have friends. That’s just the way things are. Zoe nods, satisfied with their conversation, and smiles brightly. “Well, I’m happy to hear that.” She says and then walks off, leaving Alana alone with her inner turmoil.

Next, it was Zoe and her group of friends. They invited her out for ice cream at some place called A La Mode. It was not a pleasant experience.

Zoe had gotten up to go to the restroom, something about calling her mom, Alana had thought nothing of it, but maybe she should’ve noticed the looks the girls shared as Zoe took her exit.

“So,” one of the taller girls started, gaining Alana’s attention. “You know Connor.” Of course. It’s always about Connor. It’s a bit weird because, up to this point, the boy had not even been mentioned, but now that Zoe was gone…

“I do.” She answers warily, not sure if it was a question. The girls smile and giggle, looking at each other. Alana nervously scoops strawberry sherbert into her mouth. She doesn’t really like the flavor, but she panicked and it was the first thing she saw on the menu. “So,” another girl starts, holding out the ‘o’ in the word, smiling coyly. Alana bites her lip, uncomfortable. “Are you two… Close?”

“Close implying friends or close implying a relationship of romantic calibre?” Alana flinches at the use of ‘calibre.’ No normal high schooler uses calibre! The girls pay no mind to her word choice, instead choosing to talk about her avoidance of the question. “So, you’re dating?” Alana nearly chokes on her sherbert. “ _What_ ?!” She gasps, the girl next to her pats her back softly, smiling gently. “No, we’re not,” she pauses, setting her spoon down, feeling sick. “Dating. We’re just partners for a project.” _Same excuse same excuse same excuse same excuse same excuse same excuse same excu-_

“Lanie, baby,” the first girl who spoke speaks again, smiling smugly, leaning forward. “That project has been done for about a week now,” she grins now, almost evilly and Alana swallows nervously. _Shit_. “I should know, I’m in that class.” All the girls turn to her, eyes wide with wonder and interest. They want. She can’t give.

“Fine, okay, so we talk sometimes, but that’s just post-project friendship.” She tries to explain. “Post-project friendship” is not the name, it’s called being acquaintances, but she can’t say that, not to them. It _is_ , however, a thing. It’s like the friendship you form with the person who sits next to you in class, you’re not really friends, but you both need somebody to talk to, so you use each other. It’s not real.

It’s not real.

“He doesn’t like having friends and he doesn’t like me, so.” She bites her lip, finishing. Some of them look a bit disapointed, but the others… They look kinda-

“But do you like him?” Scary.

She doesn’t know who asks the question, but it causes her breath to hitch. The answer hurts her. It scares her. It’s bad because yes, she does like him, she likes talking to Connor, she likes laughing with him, she likes _Connor_. She likes him.

But she can’t say ‘yes, I do” because then rumors will stir and she hates rumors. The ones about her had been bad, but Connor’s were worse. She doesn’t mind being connected to him, but she’d hate to be the reason more rumors follow him around.

“No.” Is what she says, not “ _maybe_ ,” not “ _kinda_ ,” not even “ _I’m not sure,_ ” but a plain and simple “no.” She shovels sherbert into her mouth, hoping for a brain freeze to numb the pain emitting from her heart. It’s not enough. Tears prick the corners of her eyes and she decides Zoe and her friends suck. They suck. They’re the worst. She doesn’t wanna talk to them anymore. And so she doesn’t.

She turns down their requests to hang out after school and on weekends, avoiding them between classes, and eating lunch alone. Again. She doesn’t stop the tears next time they come.

She’s done with friendships, they’re too hard. Much too hard. Connor hates her and Zoe’s mean. The Murphys aren’t good for her, and they were the only two who actually seemed to like her. At least, they used to. Alana sighs, packing up her things, leaving the classroom.

She can’t wait to graduate and go to college where no one knows what’s going on and everyone’s tired. She can’t wait to fit in. At least, for now, she has her grandmother.


	2. .H O R I Z O N.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter hasn't been edited in like, three months, I'm weeping.

In elementary school, before she cut all of her hair off for the summer, the infamous DARE program had made its way to her school. Everyone in her grade had learned the song and gone to the graduation, she’d even written a paper that was so good that the DARE officers asked if they could use parts of it in their official pamphlet. She’d been so excited, past her would be so disappointed in the her of now as she blows smoke into the winter air.

She hadn’t been smoking long, maybe since the summer before her junior year. It’s always been sort of a mind numbing escape for her from her own mind that got meaner as she got older. Getting her hands on weed had been really, very accidental, but it’s been… Nice. Smoking weed is really fucking nice.

She usually only eats edibles, but it’s winter now and her exhalation of smoke just kind of looks like her breathing. But weed only lasts her so long. The blunt burns her fingertips as she tries to get one last hit out of it, desperate to keep her high. She drops the end of the blunt and stomps it out, releasing the last bit of smoke, eyes staring longingly at the sky. It’s not snowing yet, but the clouds covering the sky seem like they’re going to let go any moment now. She should go home, where her bed is so she can just sleep all her shitty teen angst problems away, but the house is quiet and empty and cold. It’s cold. Wait, shit, she’s cold. She walks around the park to get the feeling back into her fingers and work off her high.

She’s maybe been walking for fifteen minutes when she stumbles upon someone she didn’t think she’d see tonight. Someone she didn’t think she’d see for awhile.

It’s Connor.

She and Connor hadn’t really left off on good terms, so obviously she feels weird seeing him up close after not even speaking for like three years. He looks up at her, eyes going wide for a moment before he looks away, bored. She bites her lip, at a crossroads. She could go on her way, pretending she didn’t see him or she can stay and apologize. She should totally apologize because it was a shitty thing for her to do, for her to say. But when he’d confronted her about it, he’d yelled and she retaliated and they both walked away hurt and-

Ugh. She wishes she could ride the rest of her high out, but such a heavy topic was bound to bring her down. And it’s not like it was a full blunt, just something she has on her sometimes when she needs a quick smoke.

“Hey.” He says, looking back at the ground. She stutters out a ‘hey’ in return. Well, now they have to commit to some sort of conversation, but the only thing she can think to say is ‘sorry’ because she is. She’s sorry for turning her back on him. She’s sorry that his own sister seems to hate him. She’s sorry that he has to feel the way he does. She’s sorry she can’t say these things because she can’t say them to herself. So she settles with a “come here often?”

Lame.

He laughs, sensing her discomfort and she doesn’t know if she should be upset or not, but she awkwardly laughs with him. “Yeah, I come here often.” She nods, not sure what else to say. Say sorry, Alana. She thinks, staring at the ground. Just apologize.

“What’re you doin’ out this late?”

“Needed to smoke.” She answered, not thinking. She covers her mouth as soon as her brain catches up with her words, but it’s too late, the damage is done. He stares at her wide eyed, jaw dropped. She shoves her hands back in her pockets and looks away. She’s not scared that Connor’ll tell people, she doesn’t think that lowly of him, but if the chance ever arose to ruin her, he could. She bites her lip, waiting for the worst. He chuckles and mutters “same” and all of her fears dissipate. Alana knew Connor smoked weed, Zoe’s friends would never shut up about it, but to think they had the same smoking park. That makes her smile. Just because they don’t talk at school anymore doesn’t mean they can’t talk when they’re totally stoned.

Later that night, Alana stares at her ceiling, lying in bed, eyes wide. Her high had worn off hours ago, but talking to Connor made it seem like it had lasted longer. It left her feeling warm inside, the kind of warm when she went to visit her cousins, or when she would recall her day to her grandmother, a giddy and excited sort of warm.

They don’t speak at school the next day. It’s not like she’d expected them to, she knows him, but maybe she’d been hoping that they could go back to what they had before, or something similar. That leads her to think about just what they used to have, where they stood as individuals with each other before and where they stand now and it nearly makes her sick.

\---

Alana’s well aware that she should’ve done something when he told her about how sick and tired he was of being seen as the villain and how he’d like to just end it all, but he’d made her promise not to tell anyone. Maybe that’s why she feels so guilty when she finds out he killed himself.

The first day of senior year (or was it second? Third maybe? The first week is always a blur for her, even more so with Connor fucking killing himself) was supposed to be great, and every day after it even greater until she graduated, then everything would be perfect, just as she planned.

And it’s not that she saw Connor in her future or anything like that, but he’s always been a sort of constant in her life, always there, never moving, kind of like her grandmother. But apparently even constants can become variables. Alana’s broken up about it, sitting in her room at 2 AM, crying. She cries and she cries, but in the morning, she “wakes up,” puts on her makeup, and just mourns. She mourns as a classmate, not as a friend, because to the outside world, to everyone beyond that block of the park, they were just classmates. 

Evan, however, was not. A friend, that is. Or, maybe he was, Alana wouldn’t really know who Connor preferred to spend his time with since, well, the only time they ever spent together was when they smoked together and that short time when they were friends in middle school, and obviously, people change.

Still, Alana can’t see Evan and Connor being friends. Evan’s quiet and jumpy and gets nervous when people even glance his way and Connor… Connor is the exact opposite. He’s loud and brash and gets annoyed very easily. Very easily. Evan probably would’ve been absolutely frightened of him. Of course, opposites attract, so maybe they were friends, and Connor’s printed signature over Evan’s cast does nothing but help them, so why can’t Alana believe it?

She doesn’t voice these thoughts, though. She goes along with it, listens to Evan tell stories of emails and orchards and she just goes along with it. Even the Connor Project, which she knows Connor probably would’ve hated, but she doesn’t stop it. She just reads the emails, trying to understand Connor better, because maybe Evan did know him better than she did, even if there are inconsistencies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey, sorry for the like? delay on this chapter?? i've had it finished for a few months now, but i've been really busy with moving and school and not having any internet, so
> 
> (also, i really dislike this chapter? maybe its because i just dont like my writing, but the beginning of this chapter just seems bad???? i don't know, i can't explain it)
> 
> anyways, i'm always up to talk or if you have questions on my (writing) tumblr, anxiousblkgrl

**Author's Note:**

> this is the first part of an alana based series because i love??? her??? she's more then a girl looking for extracurriculars for her college applications, she's got her morals and dreams and fears and shit like that
> 
> that and the fact that she's black


End file.
